The Genesis Sequence Books 6-10

by Mackenzie Morris

  "I hate to tell you this, but you need to be prepared for it when the time comes. Even if Vance kills Rav, Tirlmayn won't stop using you as collateral to make Vance do what he wants."

  He knew that already. He knew it far too well. "I'm aware."

  "Once you're a pawn on Tirlmayn's side of the board, you only get out by dying. He will always have his claws around your neck and a gun barrel to your head. We're all pawns to be used and abused until he's bored of us. Then he'll sacrifice us all to get what he wants in the end, even your husband. Vance may be the prince of Azimandia, but that title does little to protect him from his own father. Whatever Vance does on Elysia is in his hands alone now."

  "I know I can get in a ton of trouble for asking this, but you wouldn't know where I could find a Bible on this Star-World, would you?" Ben asked.

  "Sorry, none here. They're illegal."

  "I figured. In times like this, I cling to my faith to get me through. Vance never understood that. He's an atheist."

  "There are no copies of your holy book here, but I will not tell anyone if you wanted to pray."

  "Thank you, Visht. You're a good man."

  "No, I'm not. I'm just as lost and hopeless as you are." The warbringer rubbed his horns thoughtfully for a few moments before he quietly spoke again. "If you show me how to do it, I would like to pray to whatever gods you have. I'm out of options now. Maybe some greater force will hear my pleas and speak to Vance to get him to stop this madness. He can't kill Rav."

  "I will help you if you would like."

  Visht took Ben's hands. "I would."

  Chapter 8

  "We need to get the water as hot as you can stand it to fully finish thawing you out and get your body temperature back up." Masamba placed the plate piled high with roast beef sandwiches and the can of lime soda on the edge of the bathtub. He then dipped his hand into the steaming water. "Not nearly hot enough."

  Rav sank down below the surface, his pale skin turning pink with the heat. The cramping in his arms and legs pulsed like ripples as the muscles contracted and expanded with every heartbeat. A long low moan escaped his throat. The eleven rows of stitches around his stomach, chest, back, and shoulders itched violently in the water.

  "There we are." The dark-skinned robot opened the control panel on the tile wall and bumped up the level of the heating coils embedded in the bottom of the black stone bathtub.

  "Ah! It's hot!"

  "It is good for you. Lean back, close your eyes, and relax. Then you can eat once you are ready. I made your favorite roast beef sandwiches and I even bought you a can of soda. You will not have to watch your weight as closely now. General of Flight Cunningham decided that your skills will be better used an an independent pilot on the front lines with a gunner flight partner in a Galaxy Glider Mark II. It is the latest model. It is a sleek, four-winged fighter with stealth shields and warp capabilities. It has a two-person cockpit with a place for the pilot and a mobile gunner seat with electronic targeting screens. It is basically a cockpit with wings, but there are pull-down cots in the cockpit and enough storage for a week's rations. The function of this aircraft is a stealth air to ground bomber, but it has been modified to suit your flying style and for dogfights. The plasma cannons and atomic warheads were replaced with a 20 mm wing-mounted machine gun with dual barrels, a laser-guided incendiary cannon with extended range, a normal laser machine gun, and an anti-gravity field generator that can be deployed mid-air at a target."

  "Sounds fun. As long as my flight partner holds up his end in fights, then I'm good with the change. I just hope they understand that I'm in charge when I'm flying."

  "The gunner is your subordinate. You give the orders and you make the calls."

  "Wonderful." Rav cracked open the can of soda then took a long refreshing drink that he felt flow all the way down to his stomach through the heat. "That's nice. So, when do I get back in the cockpit?"

  "Are you sure you are ready to fly again so soon after the crash? They are giving you a solid month to recover if needed."

  "The sooner I get back into the sky, the better. That will be my recovery. I hate sitting around having doctors and psychiatrists pander to me like I'll snap or die at a moment's notice. Did they suddenly forget there's a war being fought out there?"

  "Since when do you care about the war?"

  "Since my son is fighting for the war in his own way. I saw one of propaganda commercials earlier at the hospital. That was Nemo. Who knew he was such a good little actor? If he believes in saving humanity, then I do too. I have to save those children in the Children's Corps. Oh, that reminds me. Were you able to save the Biromian boy? Baban?"

  "They transferred him to a warehouse where he will be stocking shelves."

  "At least he's not out there dying." Rav turned his attention to the glistening grease sliding down the folds of roast beef. He couldn't resist another second. With wet hands, he picked up the first sandwich and devoured it in massive mouthfuls.

  "Slow down, Rav. We do not want you to hurt yourself."

  "When does my flight partner show up? He'll be living here with me, won't he? We're supposed to become totally dependent on each other and do everything together, right?"

  "That is correct. The bond between a pilot and his gunner is absolutely essential. Your flight partner is Recruit Gunner Cain Coolidge."

  He frowned. "A recruit?"

  "General of Flight Cunningham believes you will be able to set Recruit Coolidge on the correct path."

  "The correct path? What is that supposed to mean? Is he some kind of a criminal or something?"

  "Cain Coolidge has spent the past six months in a military prison for draft evasion."

  Rav scoffed. "Can't say I blame him."

  "He was released this morning and is on his way from induction. Despite his mistakes in his past, he has passed his evaluations and is considered to no longer be a threat to security. He should be arriving here any minute. If you are feeling warm enough, I suggest you bundle up and get dressed in something warm. I have already turned the thermostat to ninety degrees."

  "Geez, Masamba. I'm gonna melt."

  Masamba tossed him a fluffy towel from the rack when the authoritative knock pounded on the front door. "I will go answer this while you make yourself decent. This should be Recruit Coolidge now."

  After Masamba left, Rav dried himself off and found his flight pants and a plain white t-shirt on the back of the toilet. He dressed as he listened to Masamba greeting the man in the other room. This was it. Time to meet the man he would be partnered with for years. Rav stepped out of the bathroom to see the pudgy man with shockingly blue eyes, short spiky black hair, and a deep scar across his left cheek, trailing from his brow to his chin. He had a nicely-shaped short beard and mustache that same ebony black as his hair. He looked rugged in his pale blue jumpsuit, but there was an air of softness and youth that was accented by high cheekbones and flawless tan skin. He walked up to greet him. "Nice to meet you. I am Flight Master Rav Tillman."

  The man took his hand in both of his warm ones. He looked him directly in the eyes with some kind of detachment lingering over him. He spoke in a clear voice with only the slightest accent. "Recruit Cain Coolidge, sir."

  "What kind of accent is that?"

  The recruit saluted him. "Southern AX-97, sir. I grew up on a rice farm. It's how my parents and their parents and even their parents before them spoke. I was told it was hardly noticeable."

  "Don't worry. I normally wouldn't have noticed it either, but I had a friend with an Australian accent and I always loved hearing speak. Since him, accents of any kind are soothing to me. Anyway, I'm sure you're not here to babble about accents. I suppose you will be living here with me. Masamba brought in another bed. I have to apologize now. This house is not exactly the most private place. On top of that, as flight partners, you and I will be seeing quite a lot of each other, probably more than either of us wants to see. I know you're probably not comfortable around men. I kn
ow I'm not comfortable with any man seeing me naked. Even living with Masamba has been trying. So, just let me know before you get a shower or change. Neither of us wants to see the other."

  Cain let out a tiny snicker.

  "What was that?"

  "Oh, nothing. Is it warm in here or is it just me?"

  "It's practically tropical. Masamba, turn on the air conditioner or something. Our newest addition is about to keel over from the heat. I'm fine." Rav raised his arms above his head. "Look, all thawed out."

  "Thawed?"

  "Did they not tell you?" Rav asked. "I am currently recovering from a horrific Star Streaker crash. I was pronounced dead, but they put me in a cryostasis for nearly a week. They dosed me up with nanobots and all kinds of medication. Then they thawed me out and restarted my heart. Now here I am. Nearly as good as new, except for these." Rav lifted his t-shirt and ran his fingers along the long lines of black stitches on his bruised skin. "Not the prettiest things in the world, but if I'm lucky, I'll find a girl one day who likes battle scars."

  "No . . . they didn't tell me you were hurt. No one did. Rav, I-" Cain frowned and gave a slight bow. "I'm sorry. Can I call you Rav?"

  "Sure. We're going to be living and fighting together. I'll call you Cain. So, what kind of name is Cain, anyway? Did you murder your brother or something? Are you a murderer, Cain? Are you going to kill me?"

  Cain only stared emptily at him with his electric blue eyes.

  "It was a joke. But Cain killed is brother? That is what the priests say, right?"

  "You're religious?"

  "Nope, but I still know a bit. After all, the internet is quite the fountain of knowledge, even about old world religions. It came up on something I was reading and I thought it was interesting. The story of Cain and Abel? No? Okay, sorry."

  "Nice way to gain his trust, Rav." Masamba passed by them, clapping his hands in his false amusement. "Good job."

  "Cain, I-"

  "No, it's all right." He flashed a bright smile. "You're a funny guy, huh? I get it now."

  "Well, over here is your bed and the kitchen. We have to share the room, but there are dividers. The bathroom is through that door. You're free to get comfortable. I can ask Masamba if he will cook you something if you're hungry. I know they probably didn't feed you the greatest food in prison."

  Cain went to his bed and fell back on it, causing the springs to creak. "Nah, I'm good."

  "Just curious, but what was your weigh-in? You're quite a bit bigger than any of the other recruits to the Flight Force."

  "249."

  "So no Star Streaker training for you anytime soon."

  "Are you making fun of me?" Cain asked, propping himself up on his elbow.

  "Not at all. You're just . . . muscular."

  "Yeah, sure. Where I'm from, we call it fat, but thanks for trying, mate."

  "Mate?" Rav groaned. "Oh, hell. Don't tell me farmers on AX-97 call people that too."

  "Huh? Nah, man. What are you even talking about?"

  "You said . . . you know what? Never mind. I'm going crazy. It must be all the medications I'm on screwing with my mind. You just remind me of someone I used to know."

  "Maybe you should lie down? You're kind of scaring me, Rav."

  "I'm so sorry. I'm not normally like this." Rav sat on the edge of his bed and leaned back against the brown wooden wall. He found his bottle of pills on his table and swallowed a handful.

  "What are those? If you don't mind me asking."

  "They're for anxiety. They said I could still fly if I took them whenever I got anxious or scared. Don't worry about me, though. I am one hundred percent sure I can be calm and calculated in the cockpit. You are the gunner for one of the universe's best pilots. I guarantee that."

  Masamba entered the house again, carrying two black bags. He placed on one the bed next to Rav and tossed the other to Cain. "Gentlemen, you have both been summoned to the tarmac for immediate deployment to Styx. Flight suits and boots. Let us get moving."

  "I thought you said I had a month to recover."

  "And I recall you saying that you wanted to get back up there as soon as possible. I personally cleared you for this mission, so get ready. And Cain?"

  Cain stood up straight. "Yes, sir?"

  "Do not forget to tape your fingers."

  "What?"

  "With gunner tape. You have to tape your fingers or you will get blisters from the overheated controls. They heat up very quickly. They should have explained all of this to you in your induction."

  "Oh, yeah. Sure thing."

  "This is your first time, is it not?" Masamba asked.

  "Is it that obvious?"

  "Rav, be careful with this one. He is green."

  "I got it." Rav stepped into his white and gold flightsuit then zipped it up. "I'll be sure to talk him through everything. What's our mission?"

  "Cargo run. It is light risk to get you back into things. You should not even need a gunner, but it will do Cain some good to get familiarized with the controls."

  Cain looked completely lost as he dumped out his equipment onto the bed and held up each piece in the light. "Can someone help me?"

  Masamba spoke to him as emotionless as ever. "Flight suit first. Gunner suits are red."

  "Gotcha."

  Rav took over from there. "Then your boots and compact parachute. Then I'll help you tape your fingers before you put your gloves and helmet on."

  "You don't have a helmet."

  "I'm a pilot. I get specialized goggles with HUD overlay, which were supposed to be delivered today so I can wear them for the first time. Masamba?"

  "They are in your bag, Rav."

  "Thanks."

  Rav watched Cain closely as the gunner dressed in his gear. There was something strange about him, something he could not put his finger on. Other than that, Cain seemed like a decent guy. A bit scatterbrained and clueless, but that would be mended in time. The creepy thing about him was his eyes. Below that rough shock of black hair, the nearly glowing blue eyes jumped out against the man's tan skin. He looked almost alien. Rav found himself not being able to look away.

  Cain beamed as he put his hands on his hips, dressed in his dark red flightsuit and black boots laced up to his knees. "How do I look?"

  "Like a gunner who still needs tape on his fingers." Rav took the insulated white tape with the coolant between the layers and ripped off strips to wrap around Cain's fingers. He applied each strip as he had been shown. "This isn't a joke. When I was in the hospital thawing out, I shared a room with a gunner who forgot to tape his fingers before he was caught in a dogfight. The controls on the laser cannon heated so much even inside the cockpit that it melted through his gloves. He had burns down to his bones. He then had to remove an overheated laser cartridge with his bare hands. The doctors had to amputate both of the poor gunner's hands later that day."

  "I had no idea. Wrap me up tightly."

  Masamba impatiently went to the door. "As soon as you two are done fawning over each other like long lost lovers, we need to get moving. Rav, your Galaxy Glider is fueled and ready to go. The details of your mission have already been emailed to the cockpit computer. And because I care, I packed you a roast beef sandwich to eat on the walk over to the tarmac."

  That was the best thing Rav had heard all morning. "You truly know the way to a man's heart, Masamba."

  * * *

  Rav slid through the opening in the top of the Galaxy Glider and dropped two feet to sit in his padded black pilot's chair with the high back and the water bottle filled with lime soda already strapped into place on the right arm. As he flipped the row of switches on the top of the chrome consoles, the Vitalanum engines roared to life and vibrated with power. Being back behind the flight controls with the tarmac spread out in front of him on the other side of the reinforced glass window made Rav feel better than all the pills the doctors had given him. It filled him with a vibrant energy, igniting his thoughts and awakening his senses.


  "How do I . . . Ah!" Cain yelped as he fell into his gunner seat behind Rav with a crash.

  "You okay back there?"

  "Yeah, I think so. Hey, this moves."

  Rav glanced behind him to see Cain's gunner chair rolling from side to side in front of the various consoles and control sticks. "It's so you can fire all the weapons as I tell you to."

  "I have to use all of them?"

  "Uh, yeah. That's your job. I'll be too busy flying to move over there and do your job too. Memorize the order and use your legs to slide to each station. You can do this, Cain. There are extra laser cartridges in the cooler under the floorboard below your first station. If the ones in the laser cannon get too hot, you have to change them out mid-flight or the exhaust will fill the cockpit or cause the engines to shut down from the excess coolant."

  Cain gave a worried grunt. "This is a dangerous job."

  "Why do you think a recruit gunner gets paid twice what an infantryman gets? Eighty percent of gunners die within their first three flights. Only the pilot can eject from a crashing fighter. The gunner goes down with the plane. I mean, you have your parachute, but that's just for the Flight Force to feel better about themselves."

  He chuckled. "So I work in a death trap. Fun times."

  "Welcome to the Elysian Flight Force, Cain. No one actually cares about anyone. Our lives belong to the military."

  "Why would you join?" Cain asked. "You don't seem like the kind of man I would find being a flight master."

  "I was forced to join or watch my son fight. He's only six. I did what I had to do as a father to keep him safe." Rav pulled his green-tinted goggles down from his red hair that he had recently shaved short on the sides, as per Masamba's wishes. The HUD flashed to life as soon as the goggles were over his eyes.